


Backpfeifengesicht: a face in need of a slap

by unspeakable3



Series: welcome to the most noble and ancient house of black [72]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Black Family-centric (Harry Potter), Drabble, Drabble Collection, Dysfunctional Family, Family Drama, Gen, Marauders Era (Harry Potter), POV Regulus Black, Regulus Black-centric, The Noble and Most Ancient House of Black, Wordcount: 100-1.000, Young Sirius Black
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-10
Updated: 2019-11-10
Packaged: 2021-01-27 07:36:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 526
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21388471
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unspeakable3/pseuds/unspeakable3
Summary: “You’ve turned into a right little stuck up twat, did you know that?”
Relationships: Alphard Black & Sirius Black, Black Family & Black Family (Harry Potter), Regulus Black & Black Family, Regulus Black & Sirius Black, Sirius Black & Black Family, Sirius Black & Walburga Black
Series: welcome to the most noble and ancient house of black [72]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1395592
Kudos: 46





	Backpfeifengesicht: a face in need of a slap

“I’d rather you didn’t.”

“Quit being so dull.”

“Please don’t.”

Regulus kept his hand firmly clasped over his goblet. He was determined to not give Sirius the chance to tip whatever mysterious powder was contained in that vial into his wine, because with Sirius it was bound to be something horrifying and dangerous and certainly not appropriate for a _wedding_.

“You’ve turned into a right little stuck up twat, did you know that?”

Sirius idly cast a Stinging Hex at Regulus’s hand. He took in a sharp intake of breath, winced, but didn’t move.

“_Fine,_” Sirius spat, and stood up suddenly. His chair clattered to the floor and he kicked it aside as he stalked off to find a more willing victim, eliciting a disapproving glare from Mother. Regulus raised his shoulder in an attempt at a nonchalant shrug and left the table, rather more elegantly than his brother had, before she could begin questioning him.

Regulus didn’t entirely manage to avoid being dragged into deathly dull conversations with _all _the Aunties, but he was able to give batty old Great-Great-Aunt Lysandra the slip and counted that as a win. And it was when he was nodding politely as Great-Aunt Cassiopeia listed all the trophies, shields and rosettes her prized Winged Horses had brought home recently that he heard it.

The slap echoed across the neatly manicured lawn and the chatter and light laughter of Cissa and Lucius’s guests disappeared into silence. Regulus turned, dreading what he was about to see.

Sirius was bent at the waist, his hand on the side of his face, but even as Regulus watched he straightened up and glared fiercely into Mother’s eyes. She raised her hand; the emeralds and diamonds of her enormous engagement ring glinted in the sunlight and Regulus winced.

She struck again.

This time Sirius staggered backwards and almost fell to the ground. Mother grabbed him by the collar of his wrinkled dress robes and yanked him back upright; Regulus noticed the deep red wound on his cheek.

“YOU ARE AN EMBARRASSMENT TO THIS FAMILY!”

“_Me?_” Sirius scoffed. He spat on the ground at her feet. “You’re the one shrieking like a banshee in the middle of a bloody wedding!”

“YOU INSOLENT—”

“It’s alright, Walburga,” Uncle Alphard seemed to appear from nowhere to separate his sister and his nephew. “There’s no need to disrupt Narcissa’s day.”

“No, let her yell it out so everyone can hear!” Sirius tried to shrug Alphard’s arm away, but the older man had a firm grip on his sleeve. He leaned in, murmuring something in Sirius’s ear that Regulus couldn’t hear.

“Come on,” said Cassiopeia in a low voice. “Help me settle your mother.”

Regulus could think of few things he would enjoy less than_ settling Mother _when she was all worked up like this, but allowed his great-aunt to link her arm in his and rush him over the lawn towards the unhappy group. Someone cracked a terrible joke about mothers and wilful sons; there was a smattering of uneasy laughter, and the remaining wedding guests fell back into their easy chatter as if nothing untoward had happened at all.


End file.
